Page 38 of Dirty

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“No,” she said. “I mean you’re different. You’re quiet and don’t talk shit. I like that. Most of the other girls that I work with are catty and competitive. I hate it. It’s like, I don’t know, they talk shit behind your back just to get others to look at you a certain way. It’s non-stop at the club.”

“I’m not a big fan of girls. They’re mean.”

“I know, right?”

“I can kick it with you, though,” I said. “You seem pretty genuine.”

“Genuine?”

“Yeah. Not like everyone else. Genuine.”

“I don’t feel very genuine.” She turned toward the window, took a drink of beer, and then looked at me.

“Why?”

She glanced down at her boobs, and then laughed. “Really?”

I chuckled. “What?”

“They’re fake. I’m a phony.”

“I think they’re awesome,” I said, although they were ridiculously large for her small frame. “And they have nothing to do with who you are on the inside.”

“Thanks. I bet if you had them for a month, you’d hate them.”

I looked her over. As far as fake boobs were concerned, hers were pretty perfect. They looked dumb on her, though.

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d hate them.”

“You’d hate how they make your back feel.”

“Is it bad?”

She let out a laugh. “Terrible.”

“That sucks. Maybe if they weren’t so, I don’t know, big?”

“Yeah.” She starting laughing. “They are pretty ridiculous.”

“Good for business at the club though, huh?”

“They make me tips, that’s for sure.” She nodded her head toward me. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

She cocked her head to the side. “How come?”

“The last one used me for a punching bag, so I left.”

“You don’t put up with any shit, do you?”

I laughed. “No, not really. Why?”